From that place, swans with wings still wet from the waters, together with cranes and herons, took flight, their feathers glistening with droplets as they soared out into the open. Observing this, I reassured the monkeys, saying, “It is safe to enter here,” for all of us had come to the same conclusion upon seeing the birds’ easy passage. With our minds firmly set on our mission, we entered the cave together, each of us gripping the hand of another, descending deep into its dark heart. Suddenly, we found ourselves enveloped in utter darkness; this was the place we had come seeking. Hungry and weary, we approached you, O ascetic lady, and you, upholding the sacred law of hospitality, offered us roots and fruits. Tormented by hunger, we gratefully ate what you provided; truly, it was by your kindness that we, on the verge of perishing, were saved. Now, in our gratitude, we ask: tell us what service the monkeys may render in return. Thus addressed, Svayamprabhā, the wise ascetic, replied to all the monkey chiefs, “I am fully satisfied with all you energetic monkeys. Living by my own dharma, I seek nothing from anyone here.” Hearing these auspicious and righteous words, Hanumān, whose eyes were beyond reproach, spoke to her: “O noble one, we have all sought refuge with you. The time set by the great-souled Sugrīva has now passed; let us return from the cave. We beg you, deliver us from this place, for by Sugrīva’s command we have exceeded the time allotted and our lives are at risk. Save us, O righteous one, for we fear Sugrīva’s wrath, and our great task remains undone.” Thus implored by Hanumān, the ascetic woman replied, “I believe it is difficult for anyone who has entered to return alive, except by the power of great asceticism and strict vows. Yet, I will lead all of you out of this cave. But you, foremost among monkeys, must close your eyes.” She explained that it was not possible to exit with eyes open. Trusting her, all the monkeys covered their eyes with their delicate-fingered hands, eager for release. In their delight, they quickly shielded their sight and, in that moment, also covered their mouths. In the span of a single blink, Svayamprabhā, devoted to righteousness, brought them all out of the cave. Comforting us as we emerged from that peril, she said, “Here is the glorious Vindhya mountain, adorned with many trees and creepers. Here stands Prasravana mountain, and before you lies the great, mighty sea. Farewell, bulls among monkeys; I return now to my abode.” Having spoken thus, the illustrious Svayamprabhā entered the cave once more. Now, listen to the fifty-third sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa. Then, before us stretched the dreadful ocean, the abode of Varuṇa, boundless and roaring, its terrible waves surging and agitated. While searching the mountain fortress conjured by Maya’s magic, the month allotted by the king had passed us by. At the foot of the Vindhya mountain, where trees bloomed in full glory, we, the great-souled monkeys, sat down, anxiety gripping our hearts. The sight of springtime trees, heavy with blossoms and entwined with hundreds of creepers, filled us with dread. Realizing that spring had arrived and our time was lost, we fell to the ground in despair. Then, addressing the elder and distinguished monkeys with gentle words and securing their approval, the wise prince Aṅgada—whose shoulders were like those of a lion or a bull, and whose arms were long and strong—spoke: “By the command of our monkey king, we all set out. A month has passed for those who remained in the cave—why do they not realize it? We began our search in the month of Āśvayuja, with a fixed period, and now that too has passed. What should we do now? You are all trustworthy, skilled in counsel, devoted to our master’s welfare, and entrusted with every task. All those famed for valor, of unmatched deeds, set out with me at the fore, urged on by the tawny-eyed one. Now, for us whose task is unaccomplished, there is no doubt—death is certain. Who could be happy having failed to carry out the command of the monkey king? Since Sugrīva himself has given the order, it is only fitting that all of us forest-dwellers undertake a fast unto death. Sugrīva is harsh by nature and firm in his authority as lord; he will not forgive any of us who return having failed. If there is no news of Sītā, he will surely commit sin; therefore, it is better for us to undertake a fast unto death today itself. Abandoning sons, wives, wealth, and homes, the king will certainly harm all who return from here. Death here is better than a disgraceful execution at his hands. Nor have I been installed as crown prince by Sugrīva—I was consecrated by Rāma, the blameless king among men. The king, who bears old enmity, will see my transgression and—” Thus, Aṅgada spoke, his words heavy with sorrow and resolve, as the monkeys faced the gravity of their task and the peril of their situation.